Tag Archives: drunk

Flirting Fail

14 Mar

Last week, I introduced you to the concept of the Two Prong Dating Approach, in which – as you know – I am one of the two prongs involved. Aside from the two adventures C and I are planning, I’m also trying to be more outgoing and flirtatious with gents I actually find attractive. (I’m very good at being flirtatious with gents I do not find attractive, which really never works out in my favor. Or theirs.)

Anyway, one evening I find myself at some bar for happy hour with friends. I lean against the bar to order a drink and – lo and behold – the bartender is gorgeous. Tall, dark hair, light eyes … and an accent! I was obviously immediately in love and, since I’d had three Bud Lights, was tipsy enough to have the confidence to flirt completely shamelessly.

I decide the perfect approach will be to highlight my sporty-girl prowess to this Euro-Hottie. And the subsequent (fairly one-sided) flirtation goes like this:

“So, where are you from?” I could already tell he was Irish, but I wanted to play it cool.

Irishness confirmed, I continue, “Are you a football fan?”

Predictably, he asks me to clarify whether I mean “my” football or “his.” Feeling extra cool at this point, I smile and say I mean his. Sadly, he says he isn’t really a fan.

I play out my disappointment with what I’m sure is a charming grin and say, “That’s too bad! We’re going to watch the football game on Saturday!”

Confused, he asks me to clarify what the hell I’m talking about.

“You know, the game! It’s Ireland and Scotland! You should come and help us cheer for Ireland.” At this point, I’m just thrilled with my superior European sports knowledge and pretty much on top of the world.

Until he looks at me with a look that perfectly combines pity, amusement, and something else that suggests I’m about to be very embarrassed.

“Um,” he says, “That’s a rugby game.”

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Chronicles of the Unimpressive Gents: The Lazy Dude, Part I

25 Aug

This particular Unimpressive Gent Chronicle is completely out of order – in fact, this gent was my first OkCupid date of this round of online dating – but I’ve only recently given him the official allocation into the UG Pile. His Chronicle is split into two parts because I just have too much commentary to consolidate it into one and also it was two dates, so it just makes sense.

He initiated contact over the OkCupid IM system, which I disabled soon after. It was late-ish one night and he suggested we switch to g-chat. (I know, I know, rookie mistake.) As we exchanged stories about ourselves – mine about my outrageous Halloween costumes, his about naming his first Christmas tree “Goldstein” – I decided this gent must be hilarious. His pictures were questionable, but then again, so many are. He g-chatted me again the next day and after an appropriate amount of small talk, asked me out on a date. After some discussion, we decided to meet on a Wednesday night around 7pm at a pub about halfway between our two apartments.

Walking into our first date, he was cuter than I expected. But remember – I didn’t expect much here, so that wasn’t hard. He was tall-ish, had dark hair speckled with gray (despite being just 26), and was not even remotely my type. We ordered burgers and beers and shared some fries and, as I had hoped, he was funny! I’d had a beer pre-date with my stepsister, though, so after my second beer I was pretty tipsy. Here’s a lesson I’ve learned time and time again and yet cannot seem to remember: Everyone’s a lot funnier when I’m tipsy.

Anyway, we proceeded to another bar where we each had a couple more beers. Conversation continued flowing, while the Irish bartenders gave me knowing grins. This is not the first first-date I’ve taken to this particular bar. We decided to call it a night, at which point he offered to walk me home.  Taken aback and trying to shake my initial instinct to cut and run so he wouldn’t know where I lived (what, I’m a city kid), I accepted. At which point he reached for my hand. To hold.

Now, this gesture on paper seems cute and romantic and sweet (at least, to me it does). In reality, I found this to be way. too. much. Like he was trying too hard. We’d only met a few hours before. Like I didn’t want him touching me quite yet. (Ok – foreshadowing – maybe I just wasn’t that into him?!)

Does this directly contrast with however many one-night-stands I’ve had? Yes. Do I have crazy double standards for gents regarding a one-night-stand and for gents who want to date me? Yes, yes I do.

Regardless of my crazy double standards, I let him hold my hand and walk me home and even kiss me goodnight in front of my apartment. Then he asked to see me again the next week.

On paper, it was such a great first date. And in real life, when I recounted it to my friends the next day, it still seemed to be such a great first date. Of course, though, there’s a reason this gent’s been relegated to the Unimpressive Pile of Gents.

(To be continued…)

Karma: Dating, Shoes, and the Federal Government

21 Apr

DSW is usually a total fail for me. Twin and R1 have the best successes there. Seriously, they get the cutest shoes. Ever! Flats, heels, wedges, sandals, whatever! They always go and they always find adorable shoes that fit. Twin has big feet and R1 has little feet so maybe this makes a difference because I have average feet and I can never find any shoes there. They are either ugly or too big or too small. Or too expensive. Which totally defeats the purpose of going to a Discount Shoe Warehouse. No, I will not spend $75 on those shoes. Give them to me for $30.

Which brings me to my recent shoe karma. And Payless. And their ridiculous-but-amazing Buy One Get One (Half Off) promotion which seems to never end which is also fine with me. Anyway, shoe karma and Payless are on my side! Ok, DSW was on my side for one pair out of the three new ones I got, but normally DSW is a total fail. I can admit this about the karma now because I don’t think I will jinx it since I already got new shoes and I don’t really need any more.

So yeah, my new shoes are really great and I’m really excited and I really think shoe karma came around for me since I recently gave up – gave up! – two pairs of shoes. They were really old but they were so cute and they both had polka dots and one pair was pink and from France and had sentimental value and the other pair was peep-toe and super trendy. But it was time and I accepted that and I gave them up and now shoe karma has allowed me to buy three new pairs of shoes for the spring and summer. The Payless pairs totaled $28, too. Win!

Also, random sidenote, but speaking of money. Yesterday I made several impulsive purchases, which tends to happen shortly after I find myself dead broke and then get paid. Also, living within 1/2 mile of H&M, Victoria’s Secret, Sephora, and Payless? Shopping gods are you kidding me? Ok, really I don’t shop too excessively and yesterday I only went to H&M and Payless but I spent close to $100 total and that was just unnecessary. But my point here was that then today Frere and I bought plane tickets to Chicago to see Dad and Baby J and D over the 4th of July and they were $200ish and I used my debit card and then I was like, “Ohmygod, what if I’m broke again? That would be a huge regret.”

So I checked my bank account and MY FEDERAL TAX RETURN WAS THERE ALREADY! Thanks, Feds, for taking my money last year and then giving it back to me months and months later all in one lump sum and letting me blindly believe that you’re just giving me money! Because that’s what it feels like!!!

Ummm so, dating karma. I guess that should be addressed too? I’m sort of sucking at that part. I mean, I deleted ALL of my online dating profiles. There were just two and one was technically already deactivated but the point remains. They are gone. Of course, I broke the date with the Almost Teacher guy who lived at home and then the one guy I thought was cute suddenly realized grad school was just too time-consuming to hang out with me. I deserved that. But then right before I deleted the profiles, Brooklyn Guy asked me out and gave me his real email address so I wrote to him and set up a date for Sunday. As in, three days ago. But then I day-drank on Saturday and went to be at 9pm but not before giving my number to two cute guys (both of whom I will be hanging out with again – in groups) and then woke up at 3am to throw up for an hour and be hungover and then woke up for the day at 11 on Sunday. Sooo I cancelled on Brooklyn Guy. And I suggested we reschedule. And now I have ignored him. Sort of accidentally. But also, sort of on purpose.

See how I’m totally sucking at dating karma?! I am. But also, I’m kind of ok with it. I’m really busy and I’m branching out socially which is how you meet new people and then you meet their friends and then you date mutual friends and maybe I’m ok with dating karma biting me in the ass because my shoe karma is rocking?

I mean, hey, you can’t have it all right? (Except when it’s your federal taxes, then you can, just a year later).

Protected: 2010: The Year of the Slut

12 Mar

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Frere’s 23rd Birthday Blowout

9 Mar

Frere turned 23 last week! Happy birthday, Frere!

Apparently, when your little brother enters into his solid 20’s, your own life begins to appear a bit tame. This is disturbing to me because I’m only 25 and I don’t feel tame but when I recount this story for you I fear I will come across as incredibly tame. Especially given my lack of posts the past week. Ish.

After Frere remarked that he has not really celebrated a birthday since his 21st, I invited Frere to come into NYC for a night out. My mental plan, which was formed about a week in advance, involved me taking Frere out to a nice seafood restaurant on Saturday night and then have people over to my apartment for drinks and snacks before going out in my neighborhood.

My mental plan was shot to hell when I forgot to invite people over until two days before the party and when Frere and his friend missed their train and when our backup restaurant turned out to be an abandoned warehouse. But it all turned out ok when we got a nice table at a nice French restaurant two blocks from my apartment and when my homemade buffalo chicken dip melted into gooey heaven and when enough friends showed up that it was a party but it wasn’t too crowded.

And then the fun began. Frere started drinking around 7:30pm, well before I dared venture into an elevated BAC. I know, I’m lame, but I started an hour later when two of our three Quasi Stepsisters arrived. Anyway, the party picked up speed circa 10pm when we blasted music and played card games and sped down the road to blackout city. When it was time to go, Frere, Twin, and I all took a drink with us for the 12 block walk. Twin shoved a beer bottle in her coat pocket, I stealthily carried an almost-empty solo cup, and Frere strutted out the door with his nearly-full solo cup in plain view. As Twin and I hopped in a cab (yes, we’re that lazy), the other drunkards marched toward the bar.

Fast forward about 15 minutes and Frere and co should have arrived. I send him a text asking where they are.

“I got pulled over by NYPD for open container. They’re getting my info.”

Um, I’m sorry, what? You got pulled over on foot? Eight blocks from my apartment? I refrained from freaking out when he walked into the bar a few minutes later, $15 ticket in hand. Not that I’m surprised, but I’ve carried many solo cups and beers and road sodas down the street without ever running into a cop who actually cared enough to pull me over and issue a ticket!

Then Frere went home with Twin’s roommate’s ex-boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend.

And then he realized his $15 ticket is actually a court summons.

Now how’s that for a birthday blowout?

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